


Your Move

by Aesoleucian



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 06:25:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14827053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aesoleucian/pseuds/Aesoleucian
Summary: What if the moral of the Boruto noble thieves arcwasn't"capitalism is good actually" and also what if Ryougi and Shikadai dated**played shougi and never did anything that actually reads as romantic





	Your Move

“I’ve never seen you this serious about anything,” says his mom, standing in the door of his room with her hands on her hips. “And law books? Really?”

“Arrests are pretty much made at the discretion of shinobi,” Shikadai mutters. “There’s tons of special exceptions for us that the police don’t get. So even if someone didn’t do anything very bad, and if he was being controlled by genjutsu, it wouldn’t matter. Whereas a student who did something worse could get off with a warning if Lord Seventh liked her.”

“If everything runs on the Hokage’s opinion, why don’t you petition him?” says his mom. “Sounds like you’ve got the whole system figured out.”

He eyes her warily, because she only does this when he’s about to, as she puts it, get what’s coming to him. “Man, that sounds like a pain. And it’s not like he doesn’t have tons of more important stuff to look at. Dad says.”

“Why don’t you _ask_ your father? Reading will only get so much done, you know.” She turns and goes out the door, but in the hallway he can hear her say, “Once you understand a system, that’s when you grasp the weak point and give it a push.”

He frowns after her. What’s the weak point of Konoha’s criminal justice system—not weak as in a bad idea, but weak as in an entry point? It won’t be proper procedure, that takes a hell of a long time and he has no guarantee it will work. The quickest would be getting the Hokage to issue a personal pardon. And Shikadai’s dad is his aide. But is it really okay to use his personal connections like that?

He sighs and gets up and goes to put on his shoes. He never feels resolve as strongly as when they’re together, so he might as well. He’s not getting any further with this right now.

“Here to see Ryougi again,” he tells the guy at the desk—Yugi today.

“Sure thing,” Yugi says. “He’s been quiet. Go on back, we can’t spare anyone to supervise you, but it doesn’t matter much. You’re a trustworthy kid, Shikadai.”

That makes him feel a little weirdly rotten, but he’ll take it anyway. “Thanks,” he says, and goes back to the cells. “Yo, Ryougi. Did you miss me?”

“I missed not having to play against myself,” says Ryougi. He’s in pretty good spirits for a guy who’s been in prison almost two weeks. It probably helps that Shikadai visits often. “I’ll clear the board, you can go first.”

Shikadai helps set up and makes his move without too much thought, and then watches Ryougi consider. “I’m still trying to figure out how to get you out,” he says. “It seems like appealing your arrest through a trial will take a really long time, and if they don’t grant the appeal you might be worse off than before. So I was thinking of petitioning the Hokage directly.”

“You could just break me out,” says Ryougi. Despite his normal solemn tone he’s trying to pretend it’s a joke, because he knows Shikadai won’t go for it.

“That’s a last resort, man,” says Shikadai.

Ryougi looks up at him with sharp eyes, taking note of the fact that it isn’t off the table entirely. Shikadai hopes he appreciates it, because even considering it is a total drag.

“Your move.”

“I know,” Shikadai mutters. And he does. He just wants to make sure it’s the right one first. Is there any way he could harm his case by appealing to the Hokage? Lord Seventh is a pretty predictable guy, as far as titanically powerful shinobi go. If he doesn’t have a good reason to keep Ryougi locked up, a sob story will get him. “You want to write part of the letter?” Shikadai asks him, placing his rook. “Make it sound real sad and all.”

“It is sad,” says Ryougi. “I deserve it, and it’s still sad.”

“You don’t deserve it! You were being manipulated! And what’s seriously the worst thing you did? Who did you hurt?”

“You,” says Ryougi. He’s studying the board, although usually he has a habit of staring at Shikadai while they play. “I hurt those scientists. I hurt a lot of people while I was robbing them, and I’d do it again.”

“Man, let’s not put that in the petition, okay?”

Ryougi laughs, and finally looks up again. “You don’t care at all,” he says. “You’re a shinobi whose job is to fight for the public good, and you don’t care that I said I’d rob people again.”

“Sometimes a shinobi is for the private good too, you know,” Shikadai mutters. He’s having a hard time looking at Ryougi, whose steady gaze is making Shikadai’s stomach flutter with something like nervousness.

“And what’s the private good?” asks Ryougi with a smile in his voice.

“Sometimes a shinobi just thinks a guy is innocent and doesn’t want to see him rot away in jail, all right? Do you want to help with the letter or not?”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to write something convincing if I don’t even believe it myself.”

“Fine, I’ll do the whole thing. I hope you appreciate how much writing that is.” He has it half drafted in his head already: a boy with a tragic past who was victimized by his uncle. Never done anything wrong on his own, practically a model citizen. Intelligent, principled, kind, would make a great shinobi. Shikadai’s team could even take him if it’s too much of a pain to find another team for him—

“Your move. You seem distracted today.”

“I’m planning to get you out of here. Of course I’m distracted.”

“Mmm,” says Ryougi. For good measure, Shikadai gives him the stink eye, and he laughs.

 

Shikadai ends up losing both the games they play. He hasn’t had much time to practice between missions and law books, and Ryougi has had nothing but. He only leaves because the sun is setting outside, and his mom will kill him if he’s late to dinner.

He spends the night writing and second-guessing himself, even though he knows the Hokage isn’t going to care about grammar or whether it’s got the exact maximum amount of emphasis on the tragedy that is Ryougi’s life. From his dad’s stories, the Hokage is probably worse at grammar than Shikadai is and sometimes cries when he steps on a cat’s tail.

It’s probably not a good thing for the Hokage to have that much empathy, but if it helps Shikadai out he doesn’t care that much.

The next day he goes to work with his dad, who’s cool enough to pretend he doesn’t know why. “Oh, Shikadai-kun!” says the Hokage. “What brings you here?”

“Got a petition for pardon of a prisoner, Lord Seventh.” He holds it out, and the Hokage puts down the paper he was looking at in order to read it.

“You’re right that he doesn’t deserve to be locked up,” says the Hokage. Shikadai’s heart swells hopefully into his throat. “But do you have any idea what he would do if we did let him out? He doesn’t have any family, and the only person he knows in Konoha is you.”

“He can stay with us,” says Shikadai confidently. His dad raises an eyebrow at him, but he just tilts his head like _Are you going to contradict me? No? Good_.

“So you’re willing to take full responsibility for Ryougi if I pardon him.”

“Yes, Lord Seventh.”

“All right.” The Hokage smiles at him, signs and seals the letter, and hands it to Shikadai’s dad. “Would you file this for me?”

 

It still takes days for the paperwork to go through, but on Thursday when Shikadai comes to visit the guy at the desk says, “Ah, Shikadai-kun! We were going to call you if you didn’t come today. We’ve been cleared to release Ryougi to you.”

His heart thumps. _Finally_. “Thanks, Takeda-san.”

Ryougi seems to have already been told; he gives Shikadai a quick, nervous smile, and Shikadai can see that he hasn’t been playing. The shougi board is just sitting on his lap, and he’s fiddling with one of the pieces. “Is it time?” he asks.

“It is,” says Takeda. “You won’t cause any trouble, will you, young man?” But he’s smiling, like it’s a joke and they both know Ryougi won’t. Shikadai isn’t so sure.

“Of course not. Thank you for your help, Takeda-san.”

“Sure thing. I wish you good luck.”

They walk together in the sunshine, something new for both of them. Ryougi sticks really close to his side like maybe he’s not used to being outside a cell. “You wanna get something to eat?” says Shikadai. “I dunno how good prison food is, but it’s probably not as good as barbecue. I’ll buy as long as you promise not to eat like an Akimichi.”

Ryougi smiles at the plaza up ahead. “It’s not so bad, but I bet barbecue is better. Or we could go to a restaurant with food from Snow Country. You’ve never tried it, right?”

“No. Sounds cool. You know somewhere?”

“Yeah. Follow me.”

Snow Country food is pretty good. It’s got nothing on his mom’s cooking, but then again it’s not like Wind Country-style restaurants do either. He’d bet Ryougi’s mom cooked better than this too, but he’s not enough of an idiot to say it. Instead he says, “These dumplings are pretty good. Think you can do any better?”

“I know for a fact that you can barely make rice,” says Ryougi, amused. “Why do you assume I can cook?”

He shrugs. “Seems like a useful skill for a noble thief. If you’re always on the run you can’t exactly go to restaurants all the time.”

“You’re right, as it happens. I cooked a lot for… Lots of people say I’m a good cook. I don’t know if I can do better than this, though. Your mom is from Suna, right? I haven’t been there. What kind of food does she make?”

“Well, sometimes she makes normal Fire Country food ‘cos Dad has really boring taste. Usually he doesn’t bother to complain if she makes Wind Country food though. I like it better, even if my old man thinks spices are a weird foreign thing.”

They take their time getting back to the house because Shikadai kind of doesn’t want to introduce Ryougi to his mom, but she’s left a note that she’s on a mission today. Right next to it on the door is a note from Moegi-sensei telling him to get his lazy butt to team practice in the next hour, on pain of Dire Punishment.

“Ehh, you wanna come to practice? I’d feel kinda bad leaving you alone in my house since I don’t even have time for a tour.” Oh, _there’s_ his workout clothes. He shoves the door half closed and starts changing. Moegi-sensei never leaves a time on her notes because she likes him to panic.

“If you don’t think your teammates would mind…”

“Nah, they’re cool. If they’re not cool I can make them be cool. Do you know transformations? You could do that if you don’t want them to see you.”

“Transformations?”

“I’ll explain on the way,” he says, grabbing his weapons pouch and slinging it over his shoulder. “C’mon.”

Ryougi’s a pretty quick study, and he knows enough ninjutsu that he gets it by the time they make it across town. He decides to come as some random guy they passed on the street. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to both of them, the guy is “cute.” At least according to Chouchou. Ryougi looks confused and uncomfortable until Moegi-sensei makes them all start actually doing things, and Shikadai can’t bring himself to laugh at him. It makes him feel weird too, in fact, almost territorial. He can analyze that later, though. He’s still basking in the fact that he got Ryougi out of prison through the power of vaguely shady Connections.

“Why do you only use the shadow thing?” Ryougi asks during the break. “Do you not know any other ninjutsu?” Shikadai gapes at him while Inojin and Chouchou laugh their heads off. “You’re, well, you’re pretty talented. I thought you’d be more versatile.”

“It’s just what we use in our combination,” he defends, knowing how weak it sounds. “I’ll work on it.”

“You have other ninjutsu?” asks Inojin, skeptical. “I’ve never seen it.”

“Show us, show us!” says Chouchou.

“Like you can talk,” Shikadai grumbles, but he can tell when popular opinion is against him. Even Moegi-sensei isn’t making them shut up, which means she wants to see too. “Fine. My mom taught me some wind techniques. They need a fan to work, thou—oh, are you kidding me? Why do you have that?”

“It’s cute,” says Chouchou primly, and shoves the fan at him. “Are you gonna show us or not?”

Shikadai sighs. Fans are so uncool, and they don’t really suit him. Fine for his mom, but those knuckle knives Aunt Mirai has are way better. Maybe he can get her to teach him something so he won’t have to use a fan again. “Right, this one is Wind Scythe.” It’s decently cool, and his teammates seem pretty impressed when it gouges two slashes in an X on a rock. “Happy?”

“Yeah, gimme my fan back. You better not have ripped it.”

“We should incorporate that into some new combinations,” says Moegi-sensei. “It _would_ be good for the team to be more versatile. Inojin, I remember you know one or two of the Yamanaka secret techniques, and Chouchou—?”

“I know some swords,” says Chouchou, doing her I’m-too-cool-to-let-on-that-I’m-proud-of-myself shrug. “And some lightning stuff. It’s not really a big deal. Sometimes I like to keep it simple.”

He shouldn’t have started this. Now Moegi-sensei is making them come up with different combinations and later they’re going to have to practice them, and it’s a huge drag. He complains about it the whole way home, with Ryougi listening pensively, and only at his own front door does he realize he’s probably going to have to introduce him to _both_ his parents.

“I’m home,” he calls, but not too loudly.

“Finally made it, did you,” says his mom. “Come introduce your friend.”

“She’s a sensor,” Shikadai mutters. “Better take off that transformation.”

She puts her hands on her hips to survey them when they come into the living room. “The famous Ryougi, I presume. It’s nice to meet you, you’re welcome in our home, and if you hurt my son I’ll kill you myself. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Moooom, don’t threaten him,” says Shikadai. “That’s so uncool.”

“Do you think you’re cool? You’re twelve. Go play old man board games or something. Ryougi-kun, you want anything to drink?”

“Um, tea?”

“I’ll bring you some in a bit.”

“Your mom is kind of scary,” says Ryougi admiringly.

Shikadai manages to restrain himself from complaining, somehow. It doesn’t really seem fair to complain when Ryougi doesn’t have a mom. “Yeah, I’ll say,” he says instead. “C’mon, let’s play. I’ve been waiting all day.”

“I liked the diversion,” says Ryougi as he starts flipping over the pieces and setting them up. “It’s interesting to see how you practice with your team.”

“D’you want to become a shinobi or something?” asks Shikadai casually. Hoping the answer is yes.

“Not a chance. Shinobi sell their swords, but they don’t even get to choose who to sell to. The Hokage does.”

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna be a noble thief again. I promised I’d be responsible for you. Lord Seventh’d kick my ass. Or worse, my dad would.”

“No, worse would be your mom kicking your ass.” Ryougi studiously considers the board, which means he doesn’t want to look at Shikadai. He’s avoiding the question.

“Are you, though.”

“It’s your move, Shikadai.”

No, he thinks. It’s yours.

 

He wakes in the dark, confused. There’s a vague shape over him, the black outline of a person. “Whm?” he says.

“I’m just going to the bathroom,” says Ryougi’s voice in a whisper.

Shikadai is almost asleep, so at the time he doesn’t think to be suspicious. It’s not until morning, when he finds a note on Ryougi’s neatly folded futon, that he realizes it.

_Sorry, Shikadai. This is the best way not to cause you any trouble. I’ll come and visit you some time, so keep practicing or you’ll never beat me._

And he’s signed it with と, for the pawn that becomes a gold general.

 

The first time Ryougi visits, Shikadai is working his ass off for the one-on-one tournament in the chuunin finals. Or, really, he’s lying on the grass achingly sore in every muscle and soaked in sweat because Moegi-sensei won’t let him get away with just saying he’ll use long-distance techniques. And he’s tired, okay.

“Have time for a game, or are you busy?”

Shikadai’s heart leaps, and he pushes up to sitting faster than he thought possible. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

Ryougi pushes his mask up to the top of his head, so Shikadai can see he’s smiling. “Well, it’s hard to find a consistent shougi partner.”

“You got a board with you? ‘Cause I don’t.” Of course he does. He starts setting it up right there while Shikadai chugs water. “So how’s the robbery business going? Good? Righteous? Just?”

Ryougi gives him an exasperated look. “Of course it is. If you’re interested, I can tell you about the economics of direct redistribution of wealth.”

“I’m interested in everything you have to say,” says Shikadai. He’s not quite expecting it when Ryougi flushes faintly, as if he’s embarrassed.

 

The second time Ryougi visits he’s been gone for a lot longer. His hair’s different, long enough now for a little ponytail, and he’s taller than Shikadai. This time Shikadai wins over half their games, and Ryougi confesses that he hasn’t had many opportunities to play with anyone else.

“Found some kind of organization,” says Shikadai, totally unaware of the very dangerous precedents. “Make some friends who like shougi and see if they’ll help you steal. The real crime would be if you had no-one to play with.”

He wants to say: stay here and play with me. He wants to say: I’ve missed you. He wants to say: you don’t have to go.

Ryougi goes anyway.

 

The fourth time Ryougi visits, Shikadai is in the hospital. He only manages to find Shikadai’s room because Shikadai’s mom drags him in by the shoulder. “Look what I found,” she says, and practically throws Ryougi at one of the visiting chairs. “Sit.” His mask, a new one that looks like a crow, is hanging awkwardly around his neck, and he looks a little terrified for his life. “And have you hurt my son, Ryougi-kun? Perhaps by disappearing for over a year?”

“He’s fine, Mom,” says Shikadai. “Geez, leave him alone. He’s got important stuff to do.”

“ _Someone’s_ got to look out for your feelings, because heaven knows you won’t. Have fun, and remember that if anything happens I know how to find you.”

The door closes and there’s a silence, during which Ryougi hunches down further over his knees in the chair.

“It’s good to see you again,” says Shikadai.

As if he didn’t hear him, Ryougi says, “What happened to you? Who did this?”

Shikadai shrugs. “Missing-nin. That’s what happens when you’re a chuunin, you take dangerous missions. I’ll be out of here in no time, it’s just a couple broken ribs. And they give you the _good_ pain meds.”

“Broken ribs!” says Ryougi, sounding affronted. His hands stretch out to hover over Shikadai’s chest, like he can feel his ribs from a foot away. “Being a shinobi is much more dangerous than my line of work. I never get into fights if I can help it.”

Shikadai bats one of his hands out of the air and lets his own hand weigh it down on the covers. “Lucky you. No, I mean, I’m glad you’re not in danger. It makes me feel a lot better about not seeing you for months and months.”

“It makes me feel worse,” says Ryougi, putting his other hand over Shikadai’s. Hand sandwich. “Let’s play shougi,” he says abruptly, and takes his hands back to pull out the battered portable board Shikadai gave him.

“I’m always up for a game with you. Have you had a chance to practice?”

“Yes.” Ryougi smiles. “I’ve managed to find a few people to play with.”

“Then you’re gonna kick my ass, ‘cause I’m kind of high on pain meds right now.”

Ryougi kicks his ass. Several times. It doesn’t really matter that much, neither of them were expecting Shikadai to play well; it’s just nice to sit across a shougi board from him again and read what he’s thinking through the movement of his fingers. It’s nice to meet his steady gaze and find his gray eyes smiling faintly. Something heavy and soft settles in Shikadai’s chest as if it fits there perfectly.

 

The twelfth time Ryougi visits it’s him who’s injured. He stumbles into the meadow where Shikadai likes to train and clumsily puts his hand over Shikadai’s mouth like he’s too tired to say “Shhh.” He’s not moving right under his cloak, and frost is spreading out from his feet. His hand on Shikadai’s face is so cold it almost burns.

“Hey, hey, don’t freeze yourself solid. Don’t freeze _me_ solid. Are you with me?” Ryougi doesn’t respond except by slumping into Shikadai’s chest, forcing Shikadai to grab him around the waist to hold him up. “Oi! Ryougi! You said you don’t get into fights!”

Ryougi continues not to respond, but since he walked here Shikadai figures he can stand to be moved a little more. Not the hospital, though. That could cause problems once they realize he’s not a resident of Konoha. Maybe Aunt Sakura? No, she practically _is_ the hospital. Mitsuki or Wasabi, then, and frankly he trusts Mitsuki more to keep this kind of secret. “Hold on,” Shikadai grunts as he picks Ryougi up. Despite how tall he is, he’s not all that heavy. It still sucks carrying him to Mitsuki’s apartment and holding him up while he bangs on the door.

Mitsuki appears behind him, because of course he does. “Oh, my,” he says. “Your friend is bleeding quite badly.” He’s smiling, as usual, and Shikadai’s not sure how he can tell Ryougi is bleeding. Trustworthy, but creepy. “Would you like me to heal him?”

“Please.”

When Mitsuki lays him out and takes off his cloak, Shikadai can see that he was right. He watches tensely as Mitsuki lays hands on Ryougi, narrating the whole time really unpleasant stuff like “This is quite the gut wound,” and “Did you know that those are fatal in 70% of cases?” It’s maybe half an hour before he’s finished, but it feels like much longer before Mitsuki sits back and sighs, looking weirdly _contented_.

“He’ll be fine. You should really take him to someone more qualified, though. I’m only a field medic. You do want him to keep all his organs, don’t you?”

“Are they going to… fall out?” says Shikadai, eyeing Ryougi’s sleeping figure warily.

“They might. I don’t know much about the physiology peculiar to ice release users. It’s possible that they can’t get frostbite, but it’s also possible that he could kill himself if he keeps using it while he’s unconscious.” Mitsuki shrugs. “A medic who specializes in chakra therapy could make him stop.”

“Fuck,” says Shikadai.

“Yes,” Mitsuki agrees. “But he probably won’t die before tomorrow. I can ask my parent about it if you want.”

“Anything.”

“If I were a different kind of person you’d owe me a lot of favors,” says Mitsuki conversationally as he summons a tiny white snake from his sleeve. “You’re lucky I’m so nice.”

“I’ll still owe you favors if you want. Just save him.”

Mitsuki gives him the Mitsuki Smile again, but doesn’t say anything more to him.

“Sorry to call at such an early hour, but I’d like some advice. Have you ever worked with the ice release bloodline? …Because I have a patient who seems to be trying to freeze himself. No, unconscious. Can he kill himself that way? Hmm. All right. …You have experience in chakra therapy, and I thought that might be the thing. Yes. I’m not sure. Yes, please do. I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Mitsuki falls silent and stares out the window. Shikadai stares down at Ryougi and the stiff frozen blanket he’s lying on. Shikadai’s knees are starting to freeze too, from kneeling on the floor beside him. He doesn’t seem to be breathing.

“All right, I’ll try that. Chiisa, can you repeat that slowly? …Yes, I did that. …I don’t know how. Oh. All right, let me try.”

Shikadai wants to scream at him for being so perfectly calm, even though he knows it’s what makes a good medic. He can’t even get up and leave to release this awful tension. He has to see it through, getting colder and colder until he can see his and Mitsuki’s breath hanging in the air. Not Ryougi’s, but if he is breathing it will be too cold to condense.

“Yes, it seems to be working. Is it advisable to do a minor fire technique to warm him up more quickly? …Hmm, okay. Yes, for now. Thank you.”

Mitsuki lays hands on Ryougi, and he regains his color, starts looking less like an ice statue than a human, and finally Shikadai can see him breathing again. He allows himself a shaky sigh and runs his hand through his hair.

“This is your noble thief, right?” asks Mitsuki. “From two years ago, with the riot. You’re in love with him.”

The way Mitsuki says it is so matter-of-fact that Shikadai doesn’t register the last part until he’s already agreed. “Yeah. I mean no, I mean, yes to the rest, but I’m not in _love_ with him. He’s just a friend I play shougi with.”

“For most intents and purposes a missing-nin and criminal who you are legally obligated to turn in to the police,” says Mitsuki cheerfully. “But you’re frantic to save his life and you came here to me instead of to the hospital, which means you’re intentionally hiding him. I wouldn’t worry about it, though. If he’s still visiting you after all this time and you’re his first choice when he gets a near-fatal gut wound, he’s almost certainly in love with you too.”

“People can care about each other without being in love,” Shikadai mutters, but not with much heat, because Mitsuki is telling the truth and he’s pissed off about it. Where does he get off being in _love_ with Ryougi? That’s the kind of sappy bullshit Chouchou is into.

As sappy as sitting by his side all night to make sure he doesn’t start freezing himself again? Maybe. Maybe as sappy as holding his hand so he’ll know if it starts getting cold. Maybe as sappy as almost having a heart attack when he wakes up a little after dawn, blinking slowly in a way Shikadai can’t help but think makes him beautiful.

Ryougi takes a deep breath and sighs it out. “You saved me,” he murmurs, closing his eyes again.

“Were you expecting me to let you die,” says Shikadai, feeling a little cranky from worry and no sleep. “Idiot.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you. Unfortunately, the kind of people I steal from always have the most money to hire shinobi.”

“Lie low for a bit,” says Shikadai angrily. “It won’t kill you. It will do the opposite of that. Relax. Recover from your nearly-fatal gut wound.”

“And you’ll stay with me?”

“Of course.”

He’s still holding Ryougi’s hand, and doesn’t really feel like letting go. “Mitsuki said I’m in love with you,” he says after a while, because just saying things always seems more reasonable on zero sleep.

“Was he right?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I’m in love with you too,” says Ryougi, smiling up at the ceiling with his eyes closed. “I have been ever since I met you.”

“This doesn’t mean we have to _kiss_ or something, does it?”

“I think it means we should play more shougi.”

“Yeah, that sounds just about right.”


End file.
